Pain Painted on a Red Pallet
by Ballethero
Summary: Clinton Barton is lost in his own mind. Can the love of his life along with his newly acquired team-mates help him? Post Avengers. Clint/Tasha, possible Stony and other pairings to come!
1. Nightmares

**This is my first story guys! Thanks for taking the time to read it! Leave me notes and suggestions please! Tell me if you wanna hear more! :D**_  
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**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, no Marvel, nadda. **

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Clint stared up at the roof of Avengers tower blankly. His mind rich with vivid memories of his time as Loki's slave. Memories of hurting his best friend and team mates, the images of his battle with Natasha the most intense. He glanced down to see the other assassin curled into his side, bruises that matched the sole of his boot painting her pale stomach in vibrant purples and yellows. His breath hitched at the sight.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

The clock in the hallway littered the air with unwelcomed sounds; he would blame it for his loss of sleep to hide his fears from the other Avengers. His eyes stayed focused on Natasha's beautiful fiery red hair as he tried to pull his mind from the horrifying images of the past few days and failed. Conversations with Loki about his partner's weaknesses flooded his ears; that cool, sharp voice made his skin crawl and tears well up in his grey eyes. As he blinked them away his breath hitched once again, causing the woman beside him to stir.

"Clint…?" Natasha mumbled, her voice filled with exhaustion, "Is something bugging you?"

The archer glanced away nervously, "The clock in the hall… it woke me up… go back to sleep Nat."

"Bull shit." She replied as she sat up, her motion causing JARVIS, the household AI, to turn the lights in the small bedroom on. She moved onto her knees, the pair of boxers she was wearing slipping to reveal her scarred upper thighs. Gently, Natasha took him by his chin, forcing the man to turn his head. At the sight of his eyes and the tears streaming down his cheeks she leaned in and kissed him gently, hoping to calm his active mind.

"It wasn't you." She murmured quietly against his lips. The dreaded tears fell faster and more frequently from Clint's eyes now as he wrapped his muscular arms around her slender waist. Natasha smoothly moved to straddle her partner, not breaking contact with their lips, pressing their bare chests together.

"How can you say it wasn't me when my footprint is clearly defined on your gut? How can you say it wasn't me when there are puncture wounds from my arrows in the majority of our team mates?" Clint whispered barely audible as he pulled away from the kiss, staring into her crystal clear blue eyes.

"That bastard Loki did these things, not you." She murmured as she moved to kiss his neck and nibble at his ear, hoping to calm the stressed man.

"But I carried out his actions…" Clint choked out.

Natasha sighed. "Clinton Barton… don't start. We have gone over this, no one blames you for anything you did while you were…. Compromised." The final word stung her throat, not wanting to hear it ever again.

Clint sighed closing his eyes and letting Nat slowly run her hands down his chiselled sides, her fingers gently massaging and caressing his skin. His lips eventually found hers as he let his hands wander; exploring all the damage he had done to his partner. His fingers traced the healing cuts and punctures; he tried not to press too much on the bruised patches of skin that littered her beautiful body.

"Clint…" Natasha purred, shifting her hips a little, a blush creeping across her cheeks.

He smiled a little, quite content where this was headed. "Yes?" he chuckled as he kissed along her collar bone, a full on grin spreading across his face as Natasha threw her head back and let a quiet moan escape. He quickly moved his kisses south to her breasts, gently taking in and sucking at each nipple, taking Natasha's moans and movements as positive notes.

"You… are a horny asshole." She chuckled as she slipped out of his grasp, moving down to tug Clint's purple boxers off, so she could have full access to his lengthy member. Gently running her tongue up his shaft, she held back a laugh as Clint moaned. Taking him into her mouth she sucked and bobbed her head, relishing in the moans and squirms of the archer.

Clint grunted, pulling Nat's head up from his crotch. He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips as he pulled her boxers from her hips. Gently placing her upon his member he held her close, driving himself deep inside his partner, feeling her body close tightly around him. Natasha let out a shrill cry, one that could probably have been heard throughout the tower, as Clint continued. A few thrusts later and the pair climaxed together, lost in each other's touch and eyes. As Clint gently slipped out, Nat hugged her partner close, her eyes drifting shut.

Clint smiled as the two assassins slowly drifted to sleep, his nightmare driven away once more by the touch of the love of his life.


	2. Christmas

**Hey! Sorry it has been so long! Busy busy! Hopefully this is all right! Happy Holidays!**

**I own nothing! No marvel, nada!**

"WAKE UP BITCHES! PRESENT TIME! IT'S CHRISTMAS! WAKE UP!"

Clint groaned and threw a pillow in the air, knowing that no matter what he did there was no way to make Tony's voice less annoying coming over JARVIS' intercom system. He gently slipped his arms away from Natasha's waist sitting up slowly and running a hand through his mess of sandy hair.

"You are fucking kidding me… for god's sake it's five in the fucking morning!" Natasha grumbled not bothering to move from her spot in the mess of blankets and pillows.

Clint chuckled as he pulled himself from the warm bed and headed to the washroom to clean himself up a touch before heading downstairs for gifts. It had been years since he had had a proper Christmas, the last time being before his parents had died, and this was Natasha's first Christmas ever. He slid out of his loose boxers and slipped into the shower. He hummed carols quietly as he washed his hair and face; his calloused fingers traced his many scars as he ran the soap down his body. He swallowed hard as insecurities washed over him, engulfing his excited Christmas thoughts in a thick layer of black.

His breath hitched in his throat as he took inventory of the marks littering his skin, yeah he was muscular, but those Abercrombie worthy curves were ruined by the scarred reminders of all the red in his own ledger. His eyes glanced to his right calf, where the skin was ravaged, disfigured, and coarse due to his armour catching on fire while trying to escape a burning building in Moscow. Slowly making his way up his body he catalogued the different marks, and what had happened for them to taint his skin; multiple bullet wounds throughout his body, knife wounds along his abdomen, old whip lacerations along his back, and other scars littered the tanned, tone skin. He bit his lip, how Nat could even think about finding him attractive crossing his mind.

Suddenly soft, small hands were running down his back. He glanced up to see Natasha standing there with him in the shower, her red hair draping down her back. They stared into each other's eyes, having their usual silent conversations.

_I don't see it Nat._

_You're not only partially deaf, your blind too dumb shit._

She leaned against him, gently kissing each of his scars, while her hands lead his to trace her own markings, making his insecurities vanish into thin air.

As the two blemished assassins continued to tangle themselves together JARVIS' British accent filled the room, "Mr. Barton and Miss Romanoff, may I suggest heading down to the common room quite promptly? Master Anthony is threatening to come up to your suite himself."

Natasha laughed. "Come on Barton; don't want to be late for my first Christmas."


End file.
